Blonde Expressions
by recipe for insanity
Summary: Halle knew when she was being played. Thing is, she was used to faking it, and this cause, was well worth the effort.
1. Blonde Expressions

_Truly I have no idea… it's a weird perspective. Definitely propaganda of my own theory on Near and Mello's relationship, professionally and personally. You have my permission to hate it freely._

* * *

The gun slid into her ribcage tightly, jammed there roughly as if to rip through her heart without firing a single bullet.

"Looking for me?" he purred into her ear. His act never skipped a beat nor did the gun falter in position while he danced her backwards to a shadowed pillar away from jealous eyes. They were a very pretty couple. He wasn't the only clubber who had eyed her with interest.

She ran her hands down his front, feeling the leather bulge under her groping. "Mighty big of you to make the first move," she said easily, not feeling an ounce of remorse over her eager fondling of the male holding her hostage. They were both consenting adults and keeping up pretenses were necessary. She didn't think he would mind, given that the barrel of the gun now slid slowly up and down her spine. A cold caress meant to remind her who was really in charge.

Oh what a naughty boy this one was, but if he thought she'd be easy, he had another thing coming. Although she liked how he played the game so she asked, "Yeah. What of it?"

He hissed in irritation from behind her, and she laughed at his response. Finally, some entertainment worthy of her attentions.

"Why me?" he asked furiously, pushing the gun into the base of her spine. His other hand crept up her belly, fingers spidering their way around her scantily clad torso and upwards. He pinched her nipple hard when she didn't answer and had let herself just enjoy the moment.

"Same taste in men?" she haughtily replied, even as her body ached to twist in his arms so she could see his face, actively take him and show him how good it could be.

His mouth pressed against her neck and he bit her. Hard enough to leave his mark. She gasped and did twist at the cheap shot. She had him pressed against the pillar and a gun nestled under his chin before he could wipe the stunned look off his face.

She had read him from across the room. Males. They were all the same. No fashion sense or imagination. Guns could be hidden in the strangest of places. Although she had expected a bit more from this fool. She gave his skin-tight leather get-up a pointed look before saying, "You should have known better."

"Is that so?" he smirked before grabbing her ass and pulling her close. Bare skin on bare skin flushing in reaction but not before they'd taken measure of the damage. Gun to belly… gun to carotid artery… a stalemate.

"So you like it rough then?" she asked irritably, wondering where to go from here. She still felt turned on by the interaction, but her interest was cooling rapidly. This vapid exchange was losing heat when she'd rather just get to the main objective.

He smiled beautifully up at her. The only warning before his mouth connected with hers, tongue suggestively inviting her to press her luck. She wasn't dumb and pushed him off her. "In your dreams, asshole!" Her gun slammed into his neck hard. The bruise looking perversely erotic on his pale neck, and she had put it there. "You knew I was here for you. How?"

"Do I look like your type?" he asked, his hands lazily roaming her body. His gun magically hidden away. "I prefer short, skinny genius freaks…" He let the insult hover between them, involving himself in counting her bare ribs with his fingertips while she processed his response.

She should have known. The truth of his words settled on her with ease. She was surrounded by idiots. Every last one of them. Two intellectuals of this caliber didn't let their emotions rule their behavior, and yet they had all believed the lie. Or had. Why had she followed this one to the club? Female intuition? A sixth sense of knowing what persons are a danger to her client. Any reason would do. Any way she dissected it, she had been played.

"You manipulative pricks!" she said, pulling out of his embrace and turning to walk away.

He grabbed her arm, and actually had the decency to look remorseful. "You didn't know?"

"Of course not! That brat doesn't offer us anything but orders," she explained, yanking her arm free and pushing him with both arms that he fell backwards, nearly tossed on his backside. He steadied himself against the pillar before chasing her through the gyrating couples.

"Wait!" he yelled, like just another love-struck fool in a crowded room. Still, she heard him over the frenzied music and white noise created by so many people packed into a small open space. She didn't slow her speed until she could breathe the cold air outside and gain semblance of her spinning head.

He followed her, standing by her but not invading her space again. "How did you find me?" The curiosity in his voice unmistakably visible for her benefit.

"He keeps records on all of you," she provided hatefully. "We aren't all fools. I am expected to protect him. How can I if I don't know everything?" She would like to walk off. This night fed by lies, denial and ignorance only further fueled her need for action. She should head back to headquarters as quickly as she can and just forget that once again she's simply a tool.

_In every way._

"You remind him of me," he said in her defense, sensing her wounded pride. Sexually aggressive, meticulously observant, and blonde! Near picked each team member for a purpose. "Fuck him! You found me on your own."

She wanted to be petty. She could see the sympathy in his eyes, but she now knew the why of the scheme. Near had chosen her because she was the perfect catharsis to Mello's mad schemes. She was to temper the beast, rein him in and manipulate him too.

"How often do you go whoring? Haven't you anyone to keep you warm at night," she asked, hoping to steal a few more moments of introspection without his pitying looks making her angry all over again.

"Company's company," he answered. "With a face like this, you think I'm ever alone?" His pretty smile forced her to take his outstretched hand.

"Cocky bastard, aren't you?" she laughingly replied. "No wonder he likes you from afar. You'd eat him alive."

He coyly slid an arm around her waist in answer, walking them raggedly through the street to his bike. "Get on," he commanded, "and quit being so fucking cynical!"

She laughed again then and positioned herself behind him on the motorcycle. The motor revved and she yelled over its roar, "My place or yours?"

"Yours," came the faint reply as they barreled down the road. He didn't ask for directions and she had known he wouldn't need any. She was a professional at this pretense.

_Faking it. _

These boys had no idea the depth of deception needed to pull it off. If they had thought to pretend their way into her confidence, they had overestimated their talents. She was certain after tonight she would have both their undivided attentions. She had spilled SPK secrets without guilt. She was being used, but for what reason… well now… that was the only cause that really mattered.


	2. Silver Tongued Supplications

_I reread the last novel over and over and I say that all of Near's team could see Ryuk when Light came in the door, and because of it, they feared death even knowing their backs were covered by the fake, real fake notebook. Just my own opinion, feel free to hate this just as much as the first one-shot in this two-parter._

_

* * *

__Games!_

Here she was again, tied up in a game of chance between two little boys who should never have been given the power they attempted to control.

_Stupid Shinigami!_

_Stupid Genii!_

She closed her eyes. Mental screams vibrated through her statuesque demeanor, reverberating throughout her mind but finding no outlet, no verbalization. The situation called for immediate silence, and patience; and the goddamn games this boy played with their lives! There really were no words; the timer was already set in motion.

Forty seconds and counting…

_Pardon me for the evil I have done this day._

The supplication came unbidden to her. They were dredging the depths of Hell for this boy, but no prayer goes unanswered, no one was too far gone for cries of mercy. Or at least, that's what he had assured her. He would know, now wouldn't he? Kira had not shown him any.

She shocked even herself with the bitterness, hatefulness of that thought.

Mello! Fuck! What was the rest? He would have wanted her to remember; he had of course, taught her this stupid last ditch exercise in calm. If she even could fake it at this point.

Twenty-five seconds and counting…

She didn't want to die. She really, really didn't want to die.

_And if I have done any good, deign to accept it. Watch over me while I take my rest_ (fucking nineteen seconds) _and deliver me from danger_. And everyone else here, she tacked on optimistically so… she wasn't willing to give up anyone else to this false god dictating her life, their lives. Leading them to willingly be pawned for a sick, twisted ideal of justice.

Fuck! What was the rest? Mello…

Ten seconds… the final countdown.

Oh Mello! She couldn't help her distress. Sweat beads pooled on her forehead, irrationality encroaching upon the pretense calm, it demanded she finish out the prayer. As if she could actually provide protection to herself and those around her with its completion.

_May Thy grace be always with me!_

Who was she calling out to? A fool of a boy who couldn't even keep his head games limited to bringing about justice?! He had to go and play god himself! Sacrificing himself, his friends, anything that would allow him to win.

Fuck him! The words echoed in the void of her mind, remembering another time when she had been on the receiving end of those words, even as she realized she was still standing. They were all still alive and Near had begun the final act.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Too many lives, directly connected to hers deleted for the sake of the cause and here she was again, faced with the cold reality of these little boys' games. War games of a sort, heads of state had fallen in their wake. Not that that had mattered either. She would stand here, she would participate, calmly face danger like she was expendable.

She could not wait for the day when she walked out of headquarters, free to be… just be.

When had it become a crime to believe in the goodness of humanity? What was so wrong with cherishing life? Kira's cold, threatening sword of justice sliced through every hope, every dream of a good life, a better world.

Her voice, joined with Near's gave Mello his final moment in the spotlight. He had indeed surpassed his beloved mentor, even if only because his absence would be mourned by those still living. She would light a candle for him when, if they made it out of this yellow box of doom alive. And the odds were definitely looking good, if the confessions flowing freely from Yagami's mouth were any indication.

So she was a little smug as they walked out of the warehouse.

The intensity of surprise, everyone else evidently still felt in finding out what a fucking child Kira had turned out to be, had not fazed her. She was used to dealing with little boys and their tantrums. The only other person, as glib as she was being, was Near, and well she couldn't be certain that was good for her psyche. Her runt of a boss was a stoic, unfeeling bastard when all was said and done and his lack of concern for his team most definitely deserved earmarking for later scrutiny.

Near had not said a word and Rester and Gevanni had stared when she refused to get in the car.

"No, I'll meet you back at headquarters."

"But how?" Gevanni, always the gentleman, asked, concerned that she indeed had lost a bit of her sanity during the raid.

"I've got my own ride," she answered, knowing that Near knew she had another of Mello's bikes and had not stopped walking even when his men had. "Go on. Near's waiting."

They had walked over to where Near stood by the car, twirling his hair round and round his index finger. Gevanni still argued she shouldn't be left on her own, forgetting she had commandeered much of the actual physical fight against Kira.

"She'll be fine. Shut-it Stephen and get in the car," Rester forced out through gritted teeth, his weariness showing through his usual steely visage.

Gevanni opened the car door and slid into the back seat, beckoning Near to follow him. Near ignored the gesture, and instead shut the door before Gevanni could question him.

"No," he said.

His finger stilled with hair still twined about it, but his face didn't match the childish pose. "Halle, if you would not mind, I would like to ride with you," he requested.

"No, I…," she hesitated, unwilling to reveal she had not planned on going directly back to the headquarters. Her plans involved a burnt-to-the-ground church, a candle and another prayer, this time without the "fuck you" attached to it. She owed Mello that at least. This victory had not been just theirs.

"I was right to pair you with him. He needed you," Near quietly said. "You owe me this."

She wanted to argue, especially when Near had worded his request as a boast, but Rester effectively cut off anything she would have said by his quick assent and nod in her direction. A non-verbal command that she obey or else.

The else seemed preferable when Halle realized Near would have to ride shotgun on the motorcycle. She couldn't risk the slight boy falling off and he most certainly would, the way she planned on recklessly abandoning herself to the ride.

"Get on," she said hatefully. "No, in front," she explained when surprised grey eyes questioned her directions. "You'll fall off without me to shield you."

Near left her alone, even when she was insufferably rude and roughly pushed his back into the bars to make room for herself on the bike. She disliked feeling his small frame curl instinctually against her and how he knew to wrap his arms around her waist without being told.

The thought that Mello had held him this way before on a bike briefly flitted through her brain before she dismissed it as demented. Those two boys might have enjoyed warring mentally, but they had never touched each other in the way it would have mattered.

"I rode with him this way once." Near's confession shocked her.

So much for feminine instincts.

"And?" she asked, letting her surprise get the better of her.

"You know well enough how persuasive Mello can be." The mocking explanation was deliberately spoken to shut them both off from each other again, but she wasn't done goading him just yet.

"It cannot be comfortable for you; you cannot see anything this way," she taunted. "Your back's to everything. You have to rely on the driver for protection."

"How is that different than anything else in my life?" Near responded testily. "And I always see where I am going."

"I want to see the church," Near continued as she revved up the engine in disgust over his verbal tenacity. He certainly had no problem chatting it up when he needed to.

They both ignored each other in favor of their thoughts, but she did catch him scrutinizing her out of the corner of her eye just as they rolled into the charred lot. He quickly looked away and around, and like her, with an openly pained expression.

"This… this is all that's left?" he asked, bewildered as if he had not believed the pictures of the crime scene. Or he had chosen not to think about it until afterwards, until success was certain. Like she had. Her heart realized his was just as hurt, when a small hand slipped into hers and guided them both to the center of the destruction.

They stood in silence, hand-in-hand, while the wind chilled them to their bones. Forever linked as two spectators, unafraid to relive the crimes against humanity witnessed on this hallowed ground and seeking redemption for their friend who had died here.

"I brought a candle." Near broke the silence as he pulled the candle from his pocket. His intuitive nature was too freaky sometimes, and she gave him a look that let him know exactly what she had been thinking.

He shrugged and held the candle up for her to light. They sheltered the flames with their hands, still standing side-by-side, and whispered the same prayer.

"So he taught you it too," Near said, interrupting her.

She looked down at his irritated expression and smiled. He was jealous.

"Was my expertise not what you desired?" she mockingly questioned.

He hesitated; she could see he was torn between the need to arrogantly reveal how forward thinking he was and his evident displeasure in having to think about what she and Mello actually did when together. She wasn't above leering down at him when he finally met her gaze.

He had the good grace to blush, and she felt herself pitying him.

"He deserved better," she said kindly, letting him off the hook and herself. This conversation wasn't healthy for either of them.

"You deserved better," he said quietly, the closest to an apology Near was ever going to get.

She nearly buckled under the shock, but instead blew out her candle. He did the same. They stood again in anguished silence, neither knowing what to say to comfort each other. As the darkness slipped over them, canvassing them in shadows, she found herself repeating the prayer over and over.

"Halle," Near's whine threw her off the maniac track the prayer had taken, "He'll be fine, wherever he is." He tugged on her arm, heading back towards the bike.

The time for goodbye was over. Near was right, but as she turned to follow him, she couldn't help but hear Mello's sarcastic voice in her head.

_Fucking know-it-all!_


End file.
